


Antinous

by Kizzykat



Category: Alexander (2004), Alexander/Hephaestion - Fandom, Antinous - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-10 00:02:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6929776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kizzykat/pseuds/Kizzykat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Antinous, a beautiful Greek youth, dreams of Alexander and Hephaestion.  This is a revised version of a 2006 story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Antinous

Antinous by Kizzykat  
Note: Antinous was a beautiful Greek youth beloved by the Roman Emperor Hadrian. He drowned in the Nile aged about 20 in October 130 A.D.

From the roof of the nobleman’s house where the Emperor would sleep that night, Antinous gazed out over the darkened world. Below him were buildings stretching down to the river’s edge, lit by occasional lamps that did nothing against the black shadows which hid the quiet buildings.

Beyond the buildings spread the wide river, glistening in the starlight and sliding northwards like a sleek black snake. Antinous watched it, fascinated. It seemed to be like a live god, inscrutable, with a hint of unknowable malice towards humans in the darkness. In the daylight it was different, offering beneficence and life from its overflowing bounty, heedless of how many benefited. Yet in the night it turned, and if you stared too long at it too long, it seemed to become aware of you, rolled its back and revealed unblinking eyes to stare at you. 

Antinous quickly looked away. On the other side of the river stretched the infinite desert, its rocky sands gleaming faintly in the starlight. That was where they had hunted lions yesterday in the glare of the sun. In the night, ghosts of dusty kings walked over the sand.

Antinous drew in his breath and raised his head to gaze at the multitude of crystalline stars in the vault of the night. He wished he knew more of their names. He had never seen as many stars as he had here in the dry Egyptian air. Perhaps because Egypt had more dead souls in the millennia of its history, it had more stars than anywhere else in the world. Each was infinite and unreachable in his solitude.

Antinous turned away from the parapet and surveyed the flat roof where he was to sleep that night. The nobleman of the house slept here in the hot summer nights, high up to catch what cooler breeze there was from the river. The summer was ending now, but the weather was still unceasingly hot and dry.

The nobleman’s bed had been draped with pristine white sheets and white gauze hangings to keep off the mosquitoes from the sleepers, making the bed glow faintly in the night air. Beside it stood a small lamp burning in a silver bowl atop a stand and on the other side of the bed stood a small table bearing water, wine and fruit.

There was little else on the rooftop except a couple of linen chests, and Antinous was alone. He had been dismissed from the banquet below because the Emperor thought too many eyes were turning in his direction: too many covetous eyes.

With a sigh, Antinous turned back to the parapet and leant his arms on it, trying to suppress a wave of anguish and frustration. Like a child he wanted the Emperor to come to him and hold him, and like a man he wanted to go back to the banquet and tell the Emperor in front of everyone that it didn’t matter how many people followed him with their eyes: it would make no difference to him. But the Emperor would tell him that their lustful eyes spoilt Antinous’s beauty, caused him to hang his head and hide, and sullied the Emperor’s joy in his most precious treasure.

Antinous put a hand to his bow-shaped, sensual lips and blinked until the sparkle of tears had cleared from his eyes. His chest hurt with holding so much inside.  
He turned and moved to the bed, a source of comfort if nothing else. The cotton sheets were as dazzling as snow under the starlight, the gauze hangings still looped back from the spotless bed. Antinous let the simple robe he had changed into after leaving the banquet slide from his shoulders to the floor, the warm air running over his skin. He lay down on the bed, his smooth skin, softened by oil and burnished by the sun until it shone like bronze against the whiteness of the sheets welcoming the cool caress of the cotton cloth. He was aware of the sensuousness like a delicate touch surrounding his body, but its familiarity meant nothing to him and he accepted it as unthinkingly as he would a slave dressing him in a familiar garment.

Antinous stared up at the thin white canopy over the bed, his mind equally blank. He pushed his hands into his thick shiny hair at either side of his head and gripped it tightly. He wanted to pull it out by the roots, but let go quickly: the Emperor might be irritated if his curls were tangled.

Blowing out a gust of air, Antinous pushed back his heavy fringe from his forehead. He wished he could cut it short in this heat but the Emperor would be displeased. He liked the curls on the back of Antinous’s neck and said he looked like Bacchus when he wore a wreath of flowers in his heavy hair. Antinous rolled on his side to escape the thought.

The Emperor had called Antinous Actaeon, Orion, the great hunter, after they had killed the lion yesterday. He had been thrilled to have rescued Antinous when the lion brought his horse down. The Emperor had been excited at Antinous’s danger, impassioned as he dismounted and impaled the lion on his spear. He had been vibrant, full of strength and imperious. Antinous felt a vague thrill at the Emperor's virility yesterday.

He had doubted he had the weight and strength to kill the lion but the Emperor had insisted that he make the first killing. The enraged lion had twisted himself off Antinous’s spear and charged Antinous’s horse, laying open its neck with his huge claws, his powerful haunches bunching as he thrust himself away from the screaming, falling animal, then propelling him towards the sprawling Antinous, only to meet the Emperor’s spear midway through his charge to lie tumbled in death beside Antinous.

Antinous shuddered at the memory of the lethal beast’s teeth and thick claws, his great weight and size, the gust of hot breath and air as the warm hairy body landed heavily in the dust beside him. It was within reach of Antinous, hideous death: either his or the lion's. Either death had been the Emperor's to give or take.

The Emperor had pulled Antinous up, hugging him, kissing him, praising him and laughing. He had been in joyous spirits for the rest of the day, his eyes aflame every time he had looked at Antinous, keeping him within reach, touching him and smiling at him all day long. The night had been passionate, and painful, as though the Emperor were reliving the thrill and his own triumph.

The Emperor’s reaction had confused Antinous, and shame with a shade of resentment crept in which he did not wish to examine. He left the thought alone as roiling emotions threatened to uncoil themselves within his chest.

Today though, the Emperor had been a changed man, unwell and feeling all of his fifty-odd years, fractious and envious of Antinous’s health and youth, his vitality that felt no ill effects from his fall from the horse yesterday. The Emperor had increasingly been unwell this summer and Antinous was terrified of loosing him; of loosing the only parent, guardian, friend, lover and security he had known for the past seven years; his whole world. He had no idea what would happen to him if the Emperor were to die. Tears spilled over his cheeks.

“Why the tears, beautiful one?” said a man’s voice.

Antinous sat bolt upright in the bed, wiping quickly at his cheeks. There was a shortish, fair man standing against the parapet, outlined against the dark river.

“Who are you?” Antinous demanded. “How did you get up here?” He didn’t think the man could possibly have scaled the house wall undetected.

The man shrugged, tipping his head to one side and smiling. He didn’t look threatening and made no move away from the parapet.

“I was sitting in a hay field, watching the insects and the flowers in the sun. Then I was here,” he said. “That sort of thing happens when you’re dead.”

“Who are you?” Antinous demanded, thinking he might have encountered a madman.

The man moved and gestured towards the river and the houses. “I was Pharaoh of all this once,” he said. “It is Egypt, isn’t it?”

Though small, the man was compact and well-muscled and even in this light, Antinous could catch the gleam of scars on his bare arms and legs. A soldier, a warrior and wearing a Greek chiton. Antinous suddenly realised he had spoken unthinkingly in Greek, not Latin, in response to the man’s question in Greek.

The man was looking about at the river, peering over the parapet at the houses. Antinous sat up on his haunches to keep him in view. The man was young, though no boy, restless, his longish hair swept up from his furrowed brow, lion-like. There was a lion's power there too.

“There’s not much here,” he said, assuming command already. “Where are we?”

“Alexander,” Antinous breathed, watching the man with wide eyes. The man turned around and met his eyes imperiously and Antinous blinked quickly to answer his question. “We’re about half-way between Thebes and Memphis. Are you really Alexander?”

“Yes,” the man said, smiling at him warmly and moving nearer so that Antinous could see him better. “Who are you?”

“Antinous.”

“Antinous the Greek. Where are you from?”

“Bithynia.”

“Ah, the Granicus was in Bithynia. Why are you in Egypt, Antinous the Bithynian?”

“I’m with the Emperor, the illustrious Hadrian, the Father of Rome.”

“Rome? That’s no Greek city,” Alexander said, coming nearer still. “And what do you do in the service of this Roman Emperor, Antinous the Bithynian?” He sat on the bed and Antinous scooted off the other side. He didn’t relish being touched by a ghost.

“Nothing,” Antinous said, wishing he had some clothes to cover his nakedness. His robe was on Alexander’s side of the bed. “I’m his companion.”

“His companion?” Alexander said. “No soldier then? No, too soft, too pampered. Are you his pleasure slave?”

“No,” Antinous said indignantly.

“Then don’t behave like one,” Alexander said, his voice acquiring an edge. “Stop running away. I won’t touch you. I doubt I could anyway, being dead,” he added with a smile.

Antinous didn’t quite believe that, having felt the movement of the mattress as Alexander had sat on the bed, but he moved nearer anyway and perched on the other side of the mattress.

“You’re very beautiful,” Alexander said, leaning on his elbow and surveying Antinous with his large brown eyes. “I can understand why the Emperor Hadrian favours you. You remind me of my beautiful Bagoas, but I think your beauty might fade, unlike his. Tell me, beautiful Antinous, what will you do when your youthful looks fade, when your Emperor no longer desires you as a beautiful boy?”

Antinous looked at him in dread, struggling to find his voice. “The Emperor loves me like a son. He has spoken of adopting me.”

“Has he?” Alexander said. “Then why am I here, if you have no fear for the future?”

“The Emperor will never discard me!” Antinous cried, rising to his feet. “He will adopt me, make me a Roman citizen, let me enter the army! He might even make me his heir!”  
Alexander regarded him thoughtfully. “He loves you so much that he would make you the target of powerful and envious men?”

“No! It’s not like that,” Antinous said. “He will teach me, guard me, and guide me.”

Alexander got off the bed and walked around to Antinous’s side, catching hold of the upright to show Antinous he meant no threat.

“Will he?” Alexander said quietly. He moved nearer and brushed the back of one forefinger against Antinous’s cheek. The touch felt cold, and a shiver ran through Antinous.

“He has already left it too late, Antinous,” Alexander said softly. “Those are whiskers on your cheek. You are almost a man and yet you behave like an over-wrought boy. Training to rule begins with training to rule oneself, and yours should have begun long ago. How old are you?”

"Twenty."

Alexander placed cold hands on Antinous's cheeks, pulled his head forward and kissed his forehead. He lifted Antinous's head and said, "I was a king at twenty."

Antinous stared back at him, his straight brows knitting in anxiety. “Then what am I to do?” he asked in despair. “What is a royal favourite to do if he cannot make himself useful like your Hephaestion?”

“Leave Hephaestion out of this,” Alexander said darkly and moved away from him.

“No,” Antinous said, moving after him. “How do I make myself indispensable like Hephaestion? Tell me his secret. How do I make myself as loved as he was?”

Alexander looked at him blackly. “If you do not know already, then you never will.”

Antinous stood in the middle of the roof, watching Alexander, struggling to find some surety in his life. “I am loved,” he said, wishing to convince Alexander. “The Emperor sees me as he would have wished to be when young. He was not a handsome youth, he says, even now his skin is scarred. Nor did he know what it was to be loved, and not even to be liked: he tried too hard. I give him his youth again, and to know what it is to love and be loved in return.”

Alexander regarded him for a long moment. “True love is to be loved for oneself alone, not as a reflection of the lover.”

Antinous’s eyes filled with tears. This stranger would take away the only love he had ever known, however imperfect. “I am the son his wife has never given him.”

“A father does not sleep with his child.”

“I have neither father nor mother, brother nor sister! I have no one else!”

“Has he had favourites before you?”

Antinous’s chin trembled. “Yes.” His voice was barely audible.

“Come, sit down,” Alexander said, his voice acquiring a certain briskness. “Tell me about it, and we will decide what to do.”

They sat down side by side on the bed, not too close. Antinous pushed himself further back on the bed and drew his feet up, wrapping his arms about his legs so that he could hide his face against his knees.

“I have thought about killing myself,” he said, not daring to look up at Alexander.

“Why?” Alexander said, his voice cool.

“Because I will never be anything more than the Emperor’s pretty favourite. And when my skin starts to coarsen and grow hairy like a grown man’s, and my hair starts to fall out, he will no longer want me.”

Alexander strangled a laugh, but it was a laugh all the same.

Antinous stole a glance at him from under his heavy hair. “My father’s hair fell out,” he said.

Alexander met his eyes. “That does not mean yours will. But it would be a shame. It is such pretty hair.”

“I have my own barber to wash and dress and curl it,” Antinous said in a small voice.

Alexander pushed himself off the bed abruptly. “Your hair is not you. Tell him no.”

“I don’t mind,” Antinous said in the same small voice. “And it wastes the day. What would I do with my time otherwise?” His voice was muffled against his knees.

“Exercise,” Alexander said, walking about the rooftop. “Go riding, go to the gymnasium.”

“I am not allowed to go where I will. I am only allowed to go where the Emperor has approved, and he does not always have time to approve somewhere. He is jealous of my company.”

Alexander stood and looked at him with his hands on his hips. “Does he deny you the company of others?”

“No,” Antinous said, but he did not sound convincing even to himself. “I do not like to be much in the company of others. They watch me, and whisper about me, and gloat over me; and only want my company if they hope to gain my favour or to persuade me to gain the Emperor’s favour for them.”

Alexander’s voice became harder and colder. “And the Emperor protects you from these men?”

“Yes.”

“I had not liked your Emperor much before, but I see he has his merits. Do you have any friends? Anyone of your own age?” Alexander asked.

“No. No one will mourn my death except my Emperor.”

“You sound like Bagoas,” Alexander said, and it didn’t sound like a compliment. Antinous bowed his head against his knees, knowing himself an inept failure in Alexander's eyes.

After a moment, Alexander changed the subject. “If you were free, Antinous,” he said, his voice kind, “to do as you wished with your life, what would you do?”

Antinous raised his head and shrugged, still not meeting Alexander’s eyes, his hands clasped around his ankles as he sat on the bed. “I had thought I should like to be a poet,” he said quietly.

“A poet?” Alexander said in pleasure. “What have you composed?”

“Only little things,” Antinous shrugged again. “They’re not very good. The Emperor keeps telling me to change the words. He tells me which are the right words to use.”

“There is something not right with this Emperor’s love!” Alexander said in exasperation. “You need to get away from him, you need to break free!”

“How?” Antinous cried at him. “He owns the whole world! There is nowhere to run to! He would just bring me back!”

Alexander made a sound of frustration as he walked away, and then stopped. There was the shape of a man materialising like mist against the parapet. Antinous, looking wide-eyed past Alexander, could see the parapet and the river through the man’s body.

“Hello,” Alexander said, his voice soft and warm, welcoming the man who solidified before him.

“I heard my name,” Hephaestion said, and there was a glow of love in his voice, his eyes only for Alexander. They moved towards each other on instinct.

He was the most handsome man Antinous had ever seen, with clear skin and beautiful blue eyes ringed with dark lashes. He was young, but no boy, and Antinous hoped he might hold onto his beauty that way: he need never fear losing love again.

Alexander and Hephaestion gazed into each other’s eyes for a long moment, smiling. Hephaestion’s hands came to Alexander’s waist as Alexander raised his hands to Hephaestion’s perfect face. It was as if they didn’t need to kiss, their communion was so close, though Antinous sensed his presence was constraining their lips and bodies from meeting.

Eventually their lips met quickly, lightly, and then Hephaestion looked around Alexander at Antinous with a smile.

“Who is this?” he asked, his voice bright, friendly.

Alexander turned round to Antinous. “This is Antinous,” he said. “He’s having trouble with his Emperor.”

“And are we here to offer death as a solution?” Hephaestion asked, frowning.

Alexander met his eyes. “No. He wants to be a poet,” he said. He sat on one of the linen chests, hands on knees, like Rhadamanthys giving judgement.

Hephaestion laughed merrily at Alexander. He moved to stand at Alexander’s side and put his arm around his shoulders.

“Did you know,” he said, turning to face Antinous, “that our King here wanted to be a poet to rival Homer? If he hadn’t been so busy conquering people’s land and bodies, then he would have conquered their heart and minds with his poetry.”

He hugged Alexander hard against his thigh with a wide grin, completely destroying any illusion of kingly dignity.

“Shut up,” Alexander complained, obviously embarrassed.

Antinous watched them, enthralled at their freedom and he settled cross-legged on the bed to watch more comfortably.

Alexander, looking hot, glanced up at Hephaestion. “You would have thought,” he said, looking to Antinous, “that I would be used to him embarrassing me after all these years.”

“The day you do that,” Hephaestion said in a clear voice, “I will cease to exist.”

“Rubbish,” Alexander said.

Smiling mischievously at Antinous, Hephaestion let go of Alexander and folded his arms, daring one of them to do something.

Alexander swore coarsely, wrapped an arm around Hephaestion’s nearest thigh and yanked him close to him again.

Hephaestion, managing to keep his balance and grinning at Antinous, said, “You’ll have to excuse him. He’s just an uncouth Macedonian.”

Antinous smiled, enraptured at their closeness. Only in his dreams had such understanding and happiness existed, and their palpable intimacy enticed Antinous. Three was not an odd number.

“I saw your body in Alexandria,” Antinous blurted out to Alexander. “I wanted to touch you, but we weren’t allowed.” Not since the divine Augustus had broken the corpse’s nose off.

Alexander grinned, glancing up at Hephaestion. “I didn’t get a grand funeral pyre then?” he said.

“That bonfire you built for me was big enough for both of us,” Hephaestion said. “It was big enough for ten thousand.”

“I would have thrown myself on it,” Antinous whispered in worship.

Alexander’s faced changed to seriousness as he regarded Antinous. He let go of Hephaestion and got to his feet.

“Why? Achilles did not throw himself on Patroclus’s funeral pyre,” he said.

“He must have thought about it,” Antinous replied, fully believing Alexander had.

“No, he did not,” Alexander said, a touch of impatience in his voice as he began to pace about. “He went on to avenge his lover in glorious style, to leave an epitaph of heroic deeds, a fitting memorial to a great warrior. Achilles did not give up when life seemed at its darkest.”

Antinous dropped his head and would not look at Alexander but Hephaestion walked forward to squat in front of him. Hephaestion clasped Antinous’s hands hard in his cold fingers.

“Antinous, death is not the answer,” he said earnestly while Antinous gazed down at his beauty in awe. “I watched Alexander killing himself in despair. Would you do that to your Emperor?”

“He will not die. I am only a small part of his life.” Antinous’s eyes were drawn hypnotically to Hephaestion’s malleable, tender lips.

“But you will cause him such pain. Death is not glamorous or beautiful, Antinous. It is hard and ugly, and there is no choice, no certainty, in what happens after death. Believe me, life is better.”

“Better than being a divine hero, together for eternity?” Antinous breathed, spellbound.

Hephaestion looked at him in consternation. Suddenly, he caught Antinous’s head in his hands and kissed him. It was a hard, skeletal kiss, nothing but teeth and bones, and its icy coldness sucked the warmth from Antinous’s soul. 

Antinous gasped at the chill as Hephaestion withdrew. He felt pure, exalted and rarefied. Death seemed gloriously attainable.

Hephaestion looked at Antinous with sadness in his eyes. He rose to his feet.

“Alexander,” he said, “it will not do. He is in love with death.”

“No!” Alexander said passionately, moving quickly towards Antinous, but Hephaestion caught hold of him, wrapping his arms about Alexander and holding him from Antinous.

“Have we not convinced you,” Alexander pleaded, “to hope that you too can find love?”

“Where?” Antinous breathed, slipping off the bed to reach out to them. But it was already too late: they were fading into transparency.

“Look for it, wait for it, do not give up hope,” Alexander’s voice echoed.

Antinous stood staring at the empty air, his heartstrings pulled into the empty space of death. He wanted. He wanted their warmth, their companionship. He stood unmoving for a long time, his mind empty so that he would not lose the feeling in his heart.

When it had faded and only the memory remained, he turned, his mind still mercifully numb with only one desire in it, and picked up his discarded robe. He tied it around his waist and thrust his sequined slippers into it. Without premeditation, he straddled the parapet of the roof and then let himself down on the far side. He had thought about it often enough to know that it was far easier to get down from one of these roofs than it was to get up on to it.

He hung by his fingers from the parapet, his legs dangling, and then let go. He landed with a thud on the sand-strewn flat roof below, jarring his ankles and tumbling backwards. He listened briefly, but there was no sound of disturbance.

Quickly, he climbed over the second parapet onto a latticed wall which divided the garden below. He climbed down the lattice wall easily and once in the garden, moved into the shadows where he dressed quickly in robe and slippers. His heart beating hard, he let himself out of the garden and moved quietly downslope towards the river.

No one saw him and it was not long before he stood on the bank of the wide, alien river, the chill air rising off the water to meet him like the breath of the dead. His one thought was of longing, to hurry and join them.

Yet still without conscious thought, he walked along the bank to where the boats were moored. He untied the smallest and climbed into it. He had learnt to row on the grand canal in the Emperor’s villa at Tivoli, the Emperor teaching him one brief summer. He would miss the beautiful villa and its fascinating rooms, but they had not been back there in a long time.

Without bothering to fight the current, he rowed out into the centre of the river, and then just sat there, growing cool as he watched the dark water moving with a life all of its own. He reached his hand over the side and touched the god's dark hide. He offered a brief prayer, calling the god to him.

This had to be the place. The Egyptians believed that whoever drowned in the holy waters of the Nile became a god. Out there in the desert at Siwah, Alexander and Hephaestion had been granted immortal life, and Alexander’s body lay at Alexandria. It had to be here if he was not to be forgotten for ever. He would offer his vitality so that the Emperor might regain his youth: he would free them both.

He raised his eyes to the broad stretch of water moving northwards through the night towards Greece. He would simply swim down the middle of the river until be became too tired to stay afloat. That was ll. He need do no more. He slipped off his robe and slippers and without hesitation, silently lowered himself over the side of the boat into the dark water. 

Perhaps they would be waiting for him on the other side. He hoped so.

The black water enveloped him in its coldness, and for a long moment he held onto the boat, staring at nothing. His fingers grew numb with cold and then he drew a breath, let go and pushed off to swim slowly northwards going with the river until his strength gave out and death and immortality claimed him.  
← * →  
The distraught Hadrian declared Antinous a god and founded a city in his name. If you would like to know more about him, there is a good website at http://ladyhedgehog.hedgie.com/antinous.html.


End file.
